


Fire

by pipisafoat



Category: Rammstein
Genre: BDSM, M/M, fireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-21
Updated: 2007-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rich is masochist. Olli's a sadist. The fact that they're each with someone else doesn't mean they can't play with fire together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire

You'd begged me weeks ago to do this for you. Begged me to indulge in this one fantasy that Till wouldn't consider.

And now? You're begging me again, never to stop, _oh **fuck** , just keep going_, because it feels so good. You're begging for mercy, knowing that you won't find it in me, and writhing on my bed, straining against your ties even after I move my thigh away from your crotch.

You're the first person to take this kind of fun so far. Begging for it, on your chest, your arm, your stomach, even your _face, Olli, **God** , just make it show, make him know_ that you come to me so often because your lover can't make you feel the way I can. Because your precious Till can't hurt you the way I can.

I don't know where you found such huge matches, but even they burn down eventually. The first is almost to my fingers when I grab your jaw and force your mouth open. You're moaning even as I press the flame to your tongue, leaving a faint black smudge as the fire hisses out. There is no blink of pain; you've been past that for years, you said. Good for you. Any twelve year old girl can put a match out on her tongue.

You arch your back as the next match breaks in my hand, falling onto your stomach and searing your skin. You scream, it _hurts so good, oh **shit** Olli_ as I toss a little water on you before the flame falls onto my sheets I leave it where it is, dropping the rest of the weak stick on the floor behind me. You're a sick bastard, begging me for another already. Who likes to have his flesh burned?

I drag my fingernails through your fresh wound as I hear the door open behind me just the tiniest bit. You gasp for breath, beyond noticing that your darling boyfriend has walked in on the scene and is now shutting the door slowly behind him. You can't wait, needing your _pants off **now** , oh please, I can't wait_, and I untie one of your hands. It flies to your waistband, shoving desperately underneath.

I glance over my shoulder as your eyes clench and your entire body arches into your fist. Till's standing there, just looking, not particularly aroused. _Oh, oh, please, oh, you..._ and you can't even remember my name, you're so desperate for more as I yank your hand out of your pants and tell you no. I pull your pants down around your thighs even as your hand returns to your erection.

Your frantic jerking doesn't slow as you look at me, barely able to focus your eyes, and ask - no, beg - for another match _oh, here, down, oh, please, fire!_ I strike it and make you just look at it for a minute. You somehow manage to release your cock to grab blindly for the shuddering flame, but I keep it out of your reach. Your other hand is tugging desperately at its bonds, but my knots never fail. I lean close to you, match still out of reach, and hiss in your face that you had better behave or you'll be retied, maybe gagged too, and just left with a candle burning beside you, for Till to finish you off. You whimper and grab my wrist, tugging insistently in hopes of dragging the flame down to your skin. It would seem that patience is not a virtue you ever bothered to learn.

I shove your hand off my body and re-secure it to the headboard, match held lightly between my teeth. You're going cross-eyed trying to keep it in sight when I suddenly blow it out. Your groan of agony makes me smile cruelly and reach for the gag beside the bed, but I change my mind. I want Till to hear every second of your torture. The next match is drawn down your body, close enough for you to feel the heat but pulled away when you try to press into it. I draw a circle around your nipple before touching the flame to it briefly, causing a large convulsion and _aaaah ... please...._

Till draws a breath sharply behind me as I continue to move lower. I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder and hold the match just too far away from your cock for you to feel it. You toss your head and moan unintelligibly, eyes rolling. I let the heat hover just above your thigh and lean down to whisper in your ear, asking how close you are. You try - and fail - to focus your eyes anywhere in my general direction before whimpering loudly and thrusting into the air. The sudden contact with skin puts the flame out and you almost shriek.

I whip my head around fast enough to see the concerned step Till takes before your shudders register. Not wanting him to relax before you're done, I grab two short matches as quickly as possible and return my attention to your cock. One connects suddenly with your most sensitive skin and your entire body whiplashes as you come, semen extinguishing the flame before I pull my hand out of the way. The second match is lit while you continue to shake; I grind it without warning into your cheekbone, just below your left eye. Till cries out and rushes forward to pull me off of you even as you groan your way through a second orgasm.

I give you a look of contempt as your body, so tight with lust a moment ago, turns to goo in the aftermath of your pleasure, though I'm sure you don't notice. The blackened stub of the match drops from my fingers as I shake Till's hands off my bare arms. It's my turn now, and I stride out of the room without a backward glance. At least Schneider doesn't turn into a lovesick fool at the least notice.


End file.
